Paul

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Paul

2008-05-17 17:53:38

Author: Anonymous

March 9, 1998

PART 1

Hi. My name is Paul. I am fifteen years old, a college student (full-time), and I wear diapers. Now that all the vital stats are out of the way, let me give you the details.

Yes, I wear diapers. No big deal. I have wanted to wear diapers ever since I was six years old. I can't tell you why, but I have. I think part of it stems from the fact that I have encopresis, which is a condition that causes partial or complete loss of bowel control. My parents are understanding now, but they weren't when I was younger. They called me lazy and made me sit on the toilet for an hour each night until I was about eight. Accidents were cause for tantrums on my parents' part, and I tried not to have them. However, that's just the beginning of my story...

January 9, 1998

The last day of final exams. The exams themselves weren't too bad, but they put me under a lot of stress, which aggravated my encopresis. That day, I had two exams, both in math classes. My parents didn't know it yet, but I had nearly failed one of the classes already, and finals were my last chance to bring my grade up in that class. Since I knew that I would have problems that day, I grabbed a plastic bag and a few extra pairs of underwear.

As I expected, during my first exam (in the course I was failing), I had an accident. I was on the last problem of the test, and I had made sure to sit in a secluded area of the room. I quickly put my jacket on to make sure that no stains would be visible, and I walked up to the professor's desk to hand in my test.

"Here you go."

"Thanks. You made sure to check your work, right?"

"Yup."

"Good. Looks like you did a good job on it -- I guess you can't afford any less, huh?" she joked.

"You're telling me. Thanks for the help. I needed it, and I think that's why this stuff finally clicked," I said.

"Hey, no problem. You taking statistics next semester?" she asked.

"No, but probably the semester after that," I said. I liked her classes, and I wouldn't mind her as an instructor again.

"Sounds good."

We waved good-bye, and I went straight for the restroom. As soon as I was inside a stall, I took my pants off and pulled down my underwear. It was not a pretty sight. I quickly wiped myself off with the toilet paper. Then, I stepped out of the pants and underwear.

I quickly changed into a fresh pair of underpants that I had stashed in my backpack, and put the soiled ones into a plastic freezer bag that I had sneaked into my backpack that morning. I closed it up, then put it into a grocery bag that I had also nabbed that morning. I stashed the whole affair in my backpack, then walked out of the restroom as if nothing unusual had happened. Success! My parents wouldn't know about my accidents now! What they didn't know about wouldn't hurt me, I figured.

Now that I had Algebra out of the way, I had study to take my PreCalc exam (I know. If I was taking PreCalc, why take Algebra? Hey, I skipped three years of high school, so I didn't want to take any chances!). The exam wasn't for another two hours, so I studied for about an hour, then figured I knew all I could. I got up, walked around, ate a few free donuts (My school knows how to take care of its students!!), then went down to take the final.

On the way downstairs, one of my friends stopped me.

"Hey, Paul, I gotta give you something."

"Sure. What?"

"It's a program for your calculator. It'll help you to relax during the final."

"Okay. I need all the help I can get!"

With that, my friend and I hooked up calculators and I sucked his program onto my calculator. Needless to say, I have a graphing calculator (TI-92, nearly a laptop!!). After we were done, I ran downstairs.

After everybody arrived, the instructor handed out the exams. As he handed me my exam, I noted the top of the sheet- "THE FINAL JUDGEMENT!". Talk about sick and sadistic humor!

Well, I had been hearing that this instructor was known for tough finals, so this caused me to have an accident just after he turned back around.

"Just great," I thought. "Now I have to take the whole thing this way."

I resigned myself to my fate, and took the test. Since I kept my jacket on, it helped to contain the odor (I wear a VERY heavy jacket.). Surprisingly, the professor gave a pretty easy exam! He just liked to scare the hell out of his students!

I went up and handed in my last final for the semester. Then, I made a mad dash for the restroom. I changed myself again, and I put on two pair of underwear this time. Not like my usual four or five, but a little comforting.

Then I remembered the program that my friend gave me. He had given me things before, like screensavers. I pulled up the program name and ran it. When I looked at the screen, I couldn't believe it! He had given me a pornographic picture of a naked woman on a bed! Gross!

PART 2

Later that day, my mom picked me up. As I climbed into the car, she asked me how well I had done.

"Pretty well," I said, and hoped that she wouldn't ask any more questions. I hadn't told her about how I had nearly bombed in algebra, and I thought she might catch on if I said anything more.

"Were you nervous? You said you were during your bio test on Wednesday, so I just want to make sure."

"I'm fine, mom."

"Okay. So, anyway, where do you want to go to eat?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you just finished up your last final exam of your first semester in college. That's worth a little celebration, if you ask me. But then again, I'm just a mom. What do I know?"

I have to hand it to my mom - she knows how to guilt trip. She doesn't even have to use the nine months of agony or the hours of labor. She just insults herself in a very nonchalant way that makes your heart break.

"Did it occur to you that I might want to spend a little time with my son? I mean, couldn't you give that to your own mother after she drives you all the way to college every day? And..."

"Okay, mom. Ruby Tuesday's. We can go there. You like it, I like it, and it's the only decent restaurant around. Sound good?"

"Sure. Do you really want to go?"

Yeah, right. Like I was going to say "no" and endure another guilt trip.

"Sure. I'm starved," I said, lying. I'm a decent liar, I guess. My mom almost always fell for it.

The restaurant was only about a mile away, so we got there quickly. We pulled in, got out, and walked inside. I had a Caesar salad (my favorite!), and my mom had spicy chicken. I was surprised to see her eat something spicy, since she usually hates hot food. After we finished eating, we paid and left.

We walked out to the car, and got in. It was HOT. It may have been the middle of January, but we were still getting sixty degree weather! Mom had left the car in a sunny spot, so we wound up getting into a scorching-hot car. As we both got in, we noticed a funny odor.

"What's that smell?!" my mom said, disgusted.

Oh, great!! The heat had gotten to my underwear in my backpack and made it smell!!

"I don't know." This time, though, mom didn't but it.

"Did you have an accident today?" she said, as if she had asked me this question a hundred times before (which she had).

"Two," I said. I knew that lying would only make worse whatever punishment I was in for.

"Where is the underwear? Do you still have it on?"

"No, it's in my backpack."

"Well, get it out," she said. She was being calm about it! This was something I was totally unprepared for. She *always* made a huge ordeal out of stuff like this!

I obediently opened my backpack and pulled out the grocery bag. I opened it up, and pulled out the freezer bag. With each container being opened, the smell intensified. Finally, I handed her the freezer bag.

"Why did you have accidents?"

"I don't know, mom! I just can't help it! Honestly! All I know is that during times like final exams, it gets worse!" I said. I was on the verge of tears for the first time in four or five years.

"It's okay, sweetie. I talked to your grandmother about it the other day. You had some skidmarks in your underwear, and I called her up to ask her about it."

My grandmother is a psychologist, and she knows about all sorts of problems, whether they are psychological or physical. She was always helping my mom through tough times, and she was one of the best people to talk to in a tight spot. If she knew about problems like this, maybe she knew of a way to treat it!

"She says that problems like this can be stress related. Sometimes, if you can learn how to deal with your stress, you can overcome the problem," my mom said, trying to comfort me. "Here, go throw these in the Dumpster out back," she told me, handing the freezer bag over.

I went out to the back of the restaurant, and threw the soiled underwear into the Dumpster. Walking back to the car, I thought of the way my mother was handling the situation- not at all like usual.

I asked her about it when we were on the road to go home.

"Well, it's not exactly something that you have that much control over. I talked with your grandmother about it, and she says that you are mostly experiencing this because of stress."

Now my mother was taking the TV mother approach. This is her prime style, as she is an excellent actress. She knew that to be the best method of approaching the next few issues.

"Would you like to talk to a counselor?"

"No, I think that I'm okay. You know I'd say so if I needed one," I said. And it was true. We both knew that I told her when I needed that stuff.

"Okay. Well, do you enjoy having your underwear ruined?" The question was not sarcastic, but not totally sincere. It was a question leading into something, but I didn't know quite what.

"No," I replied cautiously.

"Well, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. I don't want to have this stupid problem. I just can't help it! I've tried everything! I even wear four or five pair of underwear to bed at night, so I won't get the sheets dirty!" I said.

"Then I can only think of one thing to do," she said.

"What?"

"Diapers. If you wear diapers to bed, you won't have to put on five pairs of underwear. You could also wear them when you know you'll be under a lot of stress, like today."

Diapers. Now there was a concept I didn't mind. I was surprised that my mother had brought it up, and I was scared that there would be some sort of catch.

"I don't know," I said. Yeah, right. I knew! DIAPERS! I would love wearing them!

"Paul, you have to. Don't worry, we'll keep it within the family. You'll only wear them when you need them."

"Fine," I said, feigning defeat.

"Good. Look in the back seat, under the papers and stuff."

We had a car that was always filled with junk, so I shoved a ton of insurance papers aside and found a big package of disposable diapers. "ATTENDS" the package read.

"What the--"

"When we get home, you can try one on."

"But you were going to put me in diapers anyway!"

"Yes, I was. Paul, I found ten pair of underwear in your room today. All soiled. Even your grandmother thinks that maybe you should wear them for a while."

"How long is that?"

"I don't know. Until you stop messing in your underwear and start acting your age. Hell, acting like a college student."

Great. My mom *was* angry, but she wanted to make it seem like she was doing me a favor. Both my parents still wanted to punish me. Maybe she was a great guilt-trip artist, maybe she was an excellent actress, but above all else, my mother was one hell of a child psychologist.

PART 3

The rest of the ride home was made in complete silence. As we pulled into the driveway of our house, I looked at my mom.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. You have a problem, that's all. You say you can't control it, and I don't know whether to believe you or not. I'm just dealing with it the best way I can," my mother said.

We walked inside. My mother handed me my diapers and told me to go up to my room and put one on. I followed her order. I went into my room, pulled off my pants and underwear (both pair), and sat down on my bed. I laid the diaper behind me, then scooted onto it. I pulled it up to my waist, made sure it was good and tight, then fastened it. Then I put my pants back on (I had to leave the zipper opened) and walked back downstairs.

"Paul, I want you to know that your father and I are not angry at you. We are disappointed that you haven't overcome your problem yet, but we aren't angry."

"Thanks."

"So, how do they fit?"

"Uh, I...Um, pretty well, I guess."

"Good. You can wear that for the rest of the evening."

"WHAT? I thought you said I would only wear them when I needed them!"

"Which is all the time right now, judging by your underwear. And don't take that tone with me, or else you'll be one sorry young man when your father gets home."

I reluctantly trudged back up the stairs. Before I reached the top of the stairs, however, my mother called out, "And how do those pants fit?"

"They don't."

"Then you'll wear sweats tomorrow. I'll try to find some decent looking pants while you're at school. Now go do your homework."

"What homework? Today was the last day of the semester."

"Then clean your room. It's a pigsty!"

I finished walking up the stairs, and started to work.

After about half an hour, my sister, Jen, came home. Usually, she is pretty nice, but I didn't know how she would react to diapers. She had suggested it to my parents many times (much to my anger), and they had told her to mind her own business each time (much to my pleasure). Recently, she had also taken to being a bit nasty since kids at school were calling her stupid because I was in college before her (She's a senior in high school, and I still feel like I made life a living hell for her on that last year.). As she came in, I ran to my closet, put on an oversized T-shirt, and came back out.

"Hey Paul. How were finals?" she asked, poking her head in the door.

"Pretty good. How are things with Jason?" I replied. Jason was her boyfriend, and I considered him to be a friend.

"Not bad. He gave me flowers today. He said it was an early birthday gift." Oh, puke! He always got lovey-dovey with her. Oh well.

"That was pretty decent of him."

"I know. Hey, nice shirt!" she commented.

I looked down and noticed that the shirt I was wearing had a huge smiley face on front. "Bravo on picking out the most obnoxious shirt I could," I thought.

"Oh, just threw it on."

"Looks good. Wear it to school," she told me.

I told her that maybe I would, and I started back to work. I reached over to pick up a big piece of paper, when suddenly I heard a loud crinkle behind me.

"What was that?" asked my sister.

"What was what?" I asked, feigning ignorance.

"That noise."

"Oh, it must have been the paper," I said.

"No, you didn't even touch the paper."

"I didn't hear anything."

"Wait a sec. Come here," she ordered.

Left with no choice but to go to her or suffer dire consequences (she knows how to make me pay), I walked over to her. As I did, my diaper crinkled very loudly.

"There it was again!" With that, she lifted up my shirt. Underneath, the top inch or so of my diaper was peeking out.

"Mom finally took my advice, huh?" she asked.

I didn't say anything. Finally, she looked at me and said, "You may be in college, but I know you wear diapers! Don't get an attitude with me any more! I'll tell everybody that you wear diapers." She then sauntered out of my room.

"Wonderful. Now she has something to hang over my head," I muttered. I liked wearing diapers, but I couldn't let anybody know I was wearing them. Jen was going to hang that over my head for years to come.

I had a feeling that diapers, for all their worth, were going to have a BIG price.

PART 4

Well, dad got home that night, and he knew what I was going to be wearing. Of all the members of my family, he was the hardest to try to figure out a potential reaction. My mom's came immediately, and was a bit unexpected, and I knew how my sister was going to take the news. My father, however, is a complex man, and I hadn't a clue as to how he would react.

The car came in the garage door, and I heard him get out of his car. As usual, the dog attacked him with slobber and sniffing as he came in the door. My dad walked straight into the family room, sat down at the sofa, and opened his briefcase. He pulled out a disk, and handed it to me.

"Here you go. Go hook the modem up, then run this. It's a newer version of the web browser. On top of that, I have a few bookmarks for you."

Huh? Web browser? Why did he think I wanted a new browser? I never used the one that my parents did... I had written my own a couple of years back, and I didn't want a new one.

"Well, get going," he said.

I quickly walked upstairs to the computer room and booted up. I went to DOS (we use [gag][choke] Windows '95) and went to the A: prompt. I found the file and executed it. It immediately unzipped itself and found its spot on the hard drive, erasing the previous version.

I hooked the modem into the wall, exited from DOS, and pulled up the new browser. 3.0, 4.0, I don't remember. I then went into the bookmarks menu and found a ton of sites marked. I clicked the first one, "Tri-state Incontinence Support Group." Man! I expected some links to computer stuff- not diaper pages! But, hey, this was good enough for me. I looked at the site, then brought up another bookmarked site - "Bittergrey's Den." This one didn't look like a diaper site, but I checked it out. It was, in fact, a site about infantilism -- I had never heard of that. I looked at it, and I didn't like what I saw. Who would want to dress up like a baby?

The next few sites were all the same. It didn't interest me. I wore diapers. Why did everybody assume I was into acting like a baby?

Then, I pulled up another site -- "Deeker's Diaper Page." This one didn't seem to have much to do with infantilism, but it talked a lot about diapers in general. I clicked on the "picture gallery" link, and it brought up pictures of the guy who ran the site (Deeker) as a kid and as an adult. He seemed pretty open about it! I went back to his main page, then clicked on the "Deeker's Diaper Stories" link. Whoa! Stories about kids in diapers! I wondered if any of them were about kids my age. I downloaded as many as I could, planning to read them later.

"PAUL!" my parents called from downstairs. It wasn't a "Paul, yell back" type of yell. It was a "Paul, come down here" yell. I walked downstairs quickly.

My mother and father sat in the family room, in their family conference positions. Meeting time, and I knew what it was about. I sat down across from my parents, and my father began.

"Paul, you have had this problem since you were a kid. We have both tried to stop it, but we have finally had to realize what is not possible is not possible. Overcoming your problem may be possible, but we can't do it. You seem to know when you will be affected, but you still haven't been able to stop it. So, whenever you know you will have the problem, you will wear diapers. That's why you're wearing them right now. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir." I didn't usually call my parents 'sir' or 'ma'am', but I felt that it was probably best in this instance.

"Did you check the sites I found?" my dad asked, shifting into a more relaxed mood now that the nasty business was out of the way.

"Yeah. Where did you find them?" I asked.

"Well, I looked for 'diapers' with a search engine, and I found a parental support group. I looked at some of the addresses, and one of them was the guy in the cubicle next to me. I asked him about it, and he gave me a lot of sites. He has a son just like you. He's about sixteen, and he's in diapers. He skipped two grades, and he'll be graduating this June."

This interested me. Who was this kid? My dad's cubicle had been shifted around since I was last there, and I didn't know any of his neighbors. Could I meet this kid?

My dad must have seen the expression on my face, because he looked at me and said, "He's going into work with his dad tomorrow, so I'll take you in to see him."

Great! I was going to meet another kid who wore diapers! Suddenly, I had all sorts of questions.

"Does he wear diapers all the time?" I asked.

"Sort of. He has the same problem as you. That's why we didn't get upset. Your mom wanted to ground you for three months, but the guy next to me said that it wouldn't help. He told me about putting his kid in diapers. He said it works, so I called your mom back and told her about it. He wears diapers when he needs it, same as you will."

That explanation satisfied me, and my parents continued. My mother explained to me that since I was in diapers, there were to be no more soiled underwear. If any did appear, I would be severely punished (Usually about a month's grounding in my family.)

I would wear the new pants that my mom would buy me tomorrow to school only. Other than that, I was left with whatever fit me to wear at home. ____________________ Paul's Story- PART 5 --------------------

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January 10, 1998

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The next morning, I woke up in a diaper for the first time. Actually, I was dragged out of bed in a diaper for the first time. My dad takes it upon himself to be up at four o'clock every morning, and I was going to work with him that day.

"Come on. I have three different projects to finish up today. UP!"

"Five minutes..." I groggily begged.

My father then reminded me: I was going to work with him.

"I'm up. Five minutes and I can be showered and out the door," I said quickly, waking up in half an instant.

Don't ask me why, but I always enjoy going to work with my dad. I can usually have fun with the equipment while I'm at his office, in spite of the overall boredom that the place imposes on people.

Today, also, I got to meet the other kid who wears diapers. I wondered about him. I had begun to think that he might be physically disabled, but from what my dad had said last night, he wasn't. He was like me, my dad had told me. I still had doubts.

I went to the bathroom and showered. As I stepped past the toilet, I thought about how much less I would be using it in the months to come. I showered, dried off, and went back into my room to get dressed. I grabbed a pair of my regular under- wear and put it on with the rest off my clothes. Then I went down to eat breakfast.

My dad sized me up as I walked to the kitchen. "You wearing your diaper?"

"No," I said as I grabbed some milk.

"Why not?" asked my dad, with a warning tone. It wasn't a question, but a last invitation to get my ass upstairs and into a diaper or have it grounded for a week.

"Finals were over yesterday. I'm not under any stress now," I said.

My dad's face softened. "You don't want this kid to see you in a diaper, do you?"

I turned to him. "No."

"Are you nervous about meeting him?" my dad asked.

"A little."

My dad moved in for the kill. "Are you worried about this?"

"Yeah, I am," I answered.

"If you're under that kind of stress, then you need to wear a diaper."

What was it with my parents and psychology?

My mother, and my father both could read me (or trick me) like a book!

Another technicality, another day in a diaper - in a public place!

With no choice, I went upstairs and grabbed a diaper out of the package. I put the diaper on the bed and pulled my pants down. I laid down on the diaper, then pulled it securely into place and fastened it. Afterwards, I pulled my pants up again, but, again, no fit. I grabbed my only other pair of sweatpants and put them on. I noticed a peculiar feeling in my diaper area, kind of like a sunburn, as I walked downstairs. Less than twenty four hours after putting on my first diaper, I had gotten diaper rash.

"You ready?" asked my dad.

"Yeah. Let's go," I replied.

On the ride to the office, my dad explained that he would be in the lab for most of the day, so I was free to play around with his computer. Sounded good to me.

As we arrived, I noticed that my dad's car was the only one there, except for one other. I asked my dad about it.

"Today's Saturday, remember?" he told me.

We walked into the office, and went straight to dad's cubicle. As we walked into the grey box, the guy in the next cubicle walked out.

"Hey, Frank!

Who's this?" he asked, motioning toward me.

"That would be Paul. You said you were going to bring your son in today, so I figured we could introduce them," said dad.

"Sounds good," the man said, then he yelled over his shoulder "Justin!"

A moment later, Justin appeared. He was wearing a T- shirt that said "Trendy People Suck", plain brand-x shoes (that looked pretty damn comfortable!), socks, and a diaper. No pants. He walked up to his dad.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Justin, this is Paul. He's the kid I told you about."

"Hey, Paul."

"Hi," I said shyly. I wasn't sure about this kid. I mean, at least he could wear some pants!

As if reading my thoughts, he looked at me and said, "Sorry about the no pants thing. My pants got ripped in biology just yesterday. I didn't know anybody else would be here. It makes it easier to change myself, though."

"How'd they get ripped?" I asked.

"People know I wear diapers," he said. "I think you can figure the rest out."

I could, but I don't think I wanted to. I figured I was lucky since I was in an environment where nobody would try anything like that or else cops would be involved.

"Well, we gotta get going to the lab to finish up that new board. You guys have fun," said Justin's dad.

"Paul, take off your pants," my father ordered.

"What?" I asked.

"Paul, I'm going to start some of the machines in the lab up, and when that happens, it can get to be eighty degrees in here. You won't be comfortable in those sweatpants, so you may as well get used to being in your diaper right now."

Justin's dad stepped in. "You know, he's right. But you could probably leave them on for a while longer- those machines take a while to heat up. And if you're not comfortable in just that around new people, that's okay, too."

My dad agreed, and they both left. As they did, Justin turned to me. "Don't worry about it. When you feel comfortable, take them off. Until then, it's not a problem."

After that, he said nothing about taking my pants off. We did, however, talk about diapers. As it turned out, Justin had been wearing diapers for about three years now, and he was pretty comfortable with them. He said that he started out the same way I did, wearing them when I needed to. He had a lot of social stress at school, though, so he wore them almost nonstop for his first year. After that, he had lost what control he used to have of not only his bowels, but his bladder.

"I only wear diapers when I need them, but since I'm basically incontinent now, I need them all the time," he said.

We started to talk. As it turned out, he felt the same way I did about diapers. He liked wearing them because they made him feel secure-- he didn't have much control over his bowels when he started out. Those accidents *were* accidents, and he couldn't help it. When he started wearing diapers, though, he messed more and more frequently. He loved not having to control himself.

The only downside either one of us could see was school. He had a rough time, considering that he was in high school, where violence was tolerated in spite of school policy. Being two years (and in many cases, three and four!) younger than most of the high school seniors in his class didn't help all that much, either.

"It's a pain in the ass now that all the kids at the high school know, but I can't help it a lot of the time. It does give me a lot of free time, though. Nobody wants to be associated with me, so I get to work on the stuff I like. Right now, I'm working on some computer stuff. I do some hacking, leave the handle 'Mercutio'. I could change my grades, if I needed to," he said.

After about half an hour, it got pretty hot in the building, so I wound up taking my sweatpants off. I stood there in a T-shirt and a gleaming, white diaper. Justin told me I didn't look that bad. Then he excused himself.

"Where are you going?" I asked him.

"Change. You smell like you need one, too," he said.

I didn't even realize it, but I did. I had messed in my diaper earlier, but I didn't know when. I looked at him and told him that I did.

"Yeah, I guess I do," I said.

"Come on, then. I'll show you how to change yourself in no time flat."

With that, we left the cubicles to go to the restrooms.

PART 6

Justin and I were both familiar with the office where our fathers worked, so it wasn't a problem finding the restrooms. Justin walked in, flipped the lights on, and turned to me.

"You have diapers with you?" he asked.

I couldn't believe it! I had forgotten to bring extra diapers in case I needed them! What was I thinking? Now what would I wear?

"Uh, no," I said humbly.

"No problem. You look like you're about my size, so my diapers should fit you. I brought about ten, even though I figured I wouldn't use'em."

"Why did you bring so many, then?" I asked, curious.

"In case I get diarrhea. If I do, then I have to put two on, just in case. Otherwise, it all goes all over my pants," he told me.

Satisfied with the explanation, we got ready to change ourselves. We each went into separate stalls, simply for privacy. I sat down on the floor, and pulled off my diaper.

Justin talked to me from the next stall. "Pull it off, then wad it up and throw it away."

I did so. He then explained how tightly to pull the diaper up on myself. "By the way," he added, "do you have any baby oil?"

"Err...no," I said, again embarrassed.

"Here," he said, and rolled a bottle under the partition. "I forgot. Before you tape yourself up, put some of this on."

"Why?"

"To keep you from getting diaper rash. Trust me."

Little did he know that it was just a little too late.

"Okay."

Afterwards, he explained that I should pull the tapes as tightly as possible at first, to prevent the diaper from falling off. "After you get used to it, you'll know how tight to tape it."

After finally taping it up, I stood up in my diaper. We both walked out of the bathroom and headed back to the lab, to check in with our dads.

We both walked in wearing just our diapers and shirts. The two were in the back of the lab, running some sort of test on the chip they were making. We walked up to them.

"Hey, guys. You ready for lunch?" asked my dad.

"Sure," we replied.

"Okay, we were just about to run out to get some fast food. What would you like?" asked Justin's dad.

We all agreed on cheeseburgers (except Justin's dad- lactose intolerance). Just as the two of them left, my dad looked at me and told me I was going to be cold.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, if you walk out to the car in just your diaper, your legs are going to freeze," he explained simply.

I realized what my dad was saying, and I quickly went and grabbed my pants. I pulled them on quickly. "I thought that you were going to just bring back the burgers," I said.

"No, we figured we'd eat out," my dad said.

Justin heard this and immediately turned to his father. "You're not serious, are you?" he asked.

His father told simply told him to go out to the car.

"Dad, I don't have any pants! I'll feel embarrassed, being the only kid my age in a diaper!" he said.

"Well, I'll fix that for you, Justin," chimed in my dad. "Paul, looks like you have to take your pants off again."

With no choice, I took off my pants and went out to the car wearing only my diaper and a shirt.

PART 7

We got into the car and started toward McDonald's, the agreed-upon destination. As I sat next to Justin in the back seat, I turned to him.

"Only kid. Real nice," I said, laying the sarcasm on pretty thick.

"Well, what did you want me to do? I can't wear any pants. My dad had to raise hell to get me here in the first place!"

"Yeah, but you've been in diapers for more than two years now! You're probably used to it! I'm not!"

"Oh, sure," he countered, "I go out in public all the time wearing nothing but my diapers. You told me this is your second day, but I didn't think you were *that* stupid about wearing diapers!"

I realized he was right. He probably was going out in just a diaper for the first time, same as me. But I was still getting used to wearing diapers, period. Going to McDonald's on a busy Saturday was not my idea of a way to get started. And what if I saw somebody I knew?

Justin apparently read the expression on my face at the last thought, and he shared his feelings.

"Don't worry about it. Given the odds, you won't see anybody you know. A one in a million shot that you see a friend there," he said. "As for me, I don't have that many friends, so I don't have to worry about it."

We pulled up to the restaurant, and Justin and I gave each other nervous looks. We both knew that what was about to happen probably wouldn't be pretty.

We walked in the doors after a freezing trip inside. I walked in after Justin, and we both looked around. The place was jammed. Justin muttered something about finding a place to sit, and I went up to the counter. The young man at the counter only saw my shirt and up because of the height of the counter, but he had seen me come in.

"Hello. What would you like?" he asked.

"Three cheeseburgers, please, with cokes to drink."

"Coming right up," he said.

He brought the food out moments later. In the meantime, I could feel people staring at me. After he brought the food out, I quickly walked to where Justin and our fathers were waiting. As I walked, I could feel my bladder, and I realized I had been holding it in for some time. I quickly released it all into the front of my diaper.

We ate quickly, while dad just sat there, talking to Justin's dad about the latest problem with their chip. Justin and I realized that we were stuck. So we started talking. We discussed sports (we both agreed that we hated them), cars (he had his driver's license, I didn't), and girls (we were both hopeless). Finally, we got back to the lab.

We spent the rest of the day talking, and we changed ourselves once more (we each had bowel movements) before we left. After that, dad and I drove home.

When we got home, I went up to my room. On the bed were three pairs of pants, all with elastic waistbands that had snaps on them. I assumed that these were the pants I would be wearing from now on. They didn't look too bad.

I suddenly felt the urge to pee. I walked into the bathroom and undid the tapes on my diaper. I went in the john like usual, then pulled the diaper back up on myself.

I spent the rest of the evening reading, playing games, and goofing off. I had two days until the new semester began, and I wanted to get used to the diapers-- or suffer real humiliation.

Just as I was about to get into bed, my sister barged into my room. She looked excited, and I figured telling her that I might have wanted privacy was no use now.

"What do you want?" I asked.

"You're not going to believe it, Paul! I got accepted into college!" she said.

"Great! Where are you going to be? Across the country? Please tell me it's across the country!" I said, joking.

"Nope. I got accepted to the Nanny Academy. It's only twenty miles from here, so I get to stay home." she said, then stuck her tongue out at me.

"Well, keep applying. Maybe your first choice will get back to you," I said, still joking.

"This *was* my first choice," she told me.

"Well, looks like we're stuck with each other for the next year at least."

"Yeah, but I need some practice," she said.

I didn't know where she was going with the idea, so I asked her what she meant--college at 15, but not a lick of common sense.

"Mom said I'll need practice with infants, so I get to diaper you tonight," she said with a malicious glee that only a younger brother can know.

She then ordered me down on my bed. Seeing no choice but to obey, I got on my bed. Jen went about changing me, pulling off the diaper, throwing it away, when she noticed something.

"Paul, you have blotches on your butt. I think you have diaper rash."

With that, she fastened another diaper to me and told me to go downstairs and ask mom to get some rash cream the next day.

I trudged down the stairs in only my diaper and a shirt, and I found mom. I told her that I needed some cream for my rash, and she said she'd get some.

"When did you see it?" she asked.

"I didn't," I said. "Jen did."

"Jen was changing you?" she asked.

"Yeah. She said you told her to."

In that moment, we both realized what had happened, and we both yelled upstairs.

"JENNIFER!!!"

PART 8

Jen heard the both of us yelling, and she immediately came downstairs. She looked at my mother and me, both scowling, and knew right away that she was caught.

"Why did you try to change Paul?" demanded my mother.

Jen started laughing hysterically.

"I figured it would be something to tease him about. Besides, I need practice!" she said between bouts of laughing.

"Practice for what?" my mom shot back.

"I got accepted to nanny school," she said, finally starting to calm down.

My mother got all excited over that, and the two of them quickly started talking about her plans. After about two minutes, mom asked me if I had known I had diaper rash.

"Well, I thought it would go away..." I said.

"Paul, it won't go away unless you treat it," Jen told me.

"If you knew, you should have told me," my mom said.

"He doesn't know anything about it, mom," said Jen.

"Well, maybe it *is* best for you to change his diapers, Jen. At least he won't get such a bad rash."

So, Jen was now changing my diapers. I wasn't too hot on the idea. "You know, mom," I said, "We're gonna wind up on Jerry Springer at this rate. I don't want her to see me like that!"

"Paul, you don't think I actually look at anything, do you? Oh, jeez, you're gross!"

"Just tell her when you need to be changed at home. At least then you'll be able to ward off any type of skin problems."

With that, the subject was dropped. Mom moved on, however, with the subject of diapers.

"I ordered more for you today. I got you cotton ones-- I did the numbers, and you could cost up to a thousand dollars a year in those disposable diapers. The reusable diapers are cheaper in the long run."

I listened to what she said, and I did the calculations. Diapers were eighty cents a piece at most, so she was assuming I'd wear diapers every day! I didn't think I was doing that badly.

"But mom, if I don't wear them every day, I won't cost that much," I said. Not that I minded cloth diapers; I loved the idea. I just wasn't sure about *every* day.

"Well, you tell me, Paul. Have you had any accidents?" mom asked.

"Uh, one or two..." I said sheepishly.

"Did you know you had them?" she said.

"I guess not..."

"Then you need to wear them until you can at least tell *when* you had an accident," she said. "Have you used the bathroom at all?"

"Yes," I said.

"Don't! When you are in underwear, you are in underwear, but in diapers, there is no toilet! Those are expensive diapers, and I don't want you to waste all that money!" she said.

Yet another meeting with my mom, yet another step back in my toilet training. This was turning out to be some weekend.

I went to bed that night, knowing I was in for a long semester.

January 11, 1998

>

I woke up for the second time in a diaper, and I couldn't say I didn't enjoy the feeling. I had used it last night-- another bowel movement. I got up and went in to take my shower. Jen was not up yet, so I took the diaper into the bathroom, figuring that I could at least put this one on myself. Anyway, it's not like there was anything to do that I hadn't already done--yet.

After a quick shower, I grabbed my diaper and pulled it snugly in place. I enjoyed the cool feel of the diaper as it wedged up against me, and I anticipated the feel of it later on, when I got a chance to use it--an inevitable thing, now.

After making sure I was snugly diapered, I went into my room to get ready for church. I quickly put on my shirt and socks, but I didn't know what to do about pants. There was no way my church pants would fit over my diaper! Finding nothing else, I looked through the new pants that my mom bought for me. Sure enough, there was a nice pair of black slacks, stuck in the center of the pile. I examined them-- they didn't have snaps on the side, just like normal pants. However, they did have a crotch with snaps. I guessed that that wouldn't be a problem, since the snaps we painted black and very few people would probably notice. The huge bulge around my pelvis, on the other hand, would be pretty obvious.

I quickly got everything ready, and we left for church. We would be going to Sunday school, but not staying for the service, mom said.

We arrived, and mom and dad went down to their classes while Jen and I went to ours. Fortunately, Jen had been informed that if she told anybody about my diapers, she'd be in *very* big trouble.

Jen went to her class, a traditional bible study class, and I went to mine. I was in a discussion class, which always allowed for some pretty good debate. As I walked in, people were already talking. I took my seat, and the kid next to me gave me a weird look as the diaper made a loud crinkling noise.

We started in on our lively debate, and the hour was up in no time at all. Jen came to tell me we had to leave. Although we attended church on a regular basis, my mother wasn't feeling good. We decided to leave.

As I got up to go, I realized that I had soiled myself in Sunday school. I quickly left, not wanting anybody to notice. I got out to the car, and we left.

We got home and mom laid down in her room. I went upstairs and changed. As I did, I heard the doorbell ring.

"Paul, get that!"

I was only in a diaper, but I quickly put my robe on and mussed up my hair. I then walked downstairs and opened the door, pretending to be sleepy.

"Hello?" I asked.

In front of me stood a delivery person. He looked at me and asked, "You Paul?"

"That's me," I said.

"Delivery for you," he said. "Angel Fluff Diapers."

I blushed as he said that, and he looked at my robe. A hint of white still peeked out.

"Oh, son, don't worry. I got a thirty-year-old kid, and he still wears them. Never sat on a toilet in his life! Some people just have trouble in that aspect. I didn't mean to upset you. I just recognized the packaging!"

I looked up at the man, and he winked. I began to feel a bit better. Even though it was a slip of his professionalism, I thought his intentions were good, and it helped me to feel better, knowing that even full-grown adults wore diapers.

I thanked him and signed for the package. As he left, he turned around and said, "See ya 'round, sonny!"

I took the package upstairs, dying to find out what types of diapers I was getting.

PART 9

I tore open the package. As I pulled the cardboard flaps aside, I saw what must have been fifty diapers! They were cloth, as my mother had said, and they looked like the diapers I had seen on many babies before. Except, of course, for the fact that these were HUGE. They didn't have any snaps or fasteners on them-- I was going to have to use pins, which were conveniently located right at the bottom of the box.

I pulled the diapers out, then went to my closet and opened my dresser. I had always had two or three empty drawers since I never cared for fashion and therefore didn't need a lot of clothes. I stuffed the drawers full of diapers.

I pulled one out, examining it. I started to wish I could be changed into one. My new disposable, however, was still dry and clean. I would be stuck in it until I did something.

I quickly put on a pair of my new jeans and a large T- shirt. As I did, I thought about what my mother had said last night. If I did as she asked, then I wouldn't be able to get out of diapers!! If I couldn't go to the toilet, then I would always be having "accidents" in my diapers, so my parents would then keep me in them longer... a wonderful little plan for them, I suppose. I decided to walk downstairs and ask my dad about it.

I found him working on an old radio he had found at a garage sale. Just by looking at it, I knew he'd have to put at least a month into bringing the monstrosity back to life.

"Uh, dad?" I asked.

"Yes?" he replied.

"I have to use only my diapers until I stop having accidents, right?"

"Yes," he said.

"Then how do I stop having accidents?" I asked.

My father looked at me, and then said, "Can you stop having accidents?"

This question took me completely aback. I knew that I wanted to wear diapers, and I was happy to have them. I just didn't like the concept of needing them. As I thought about what he was asking, I realized that I couldn't stop myself from having accidents. I knew that medication was not much of an option (I forgot to mention that I went to see a doctor about my encopresis at age twelve, and he had said that medication wouldn't work in my case.). I pondered the idea, and I arrived at a conclusion.

"No, I suppose not," I said.

"Then it doesn't matter. You're in diapers, Paul. I guess that your mother and I could have been a bit more understanding when you were younger, and maybe let you be in diapers before," my dad said, with all seriousness.

Well, at least I knew what was happening to me. No more toilet- ever. I guess that the more I pressed the issue, the more my parents would press it on me. Not that I minded-- I loved wearing diapers! I figured that I better not push any further or mom and dad might take my diapers away. It surprised me, however, to realize that every meeting with my parents took me deeper into diapers.

I went up to my room and turned on my PC. I have an old machine, a 386. I popped in a floppy, onto which I had saved all the stories that I had downloaded on Friday. I brought them up on my screen, and I read them all. Some were huge- hundreds of kilobytes a piece. I decided not to read those quite yet. I did read some shorter ones, though. They were pretty cool.

As I sat there, I had another accident. Correction: I went in my diaper. I knew I had to. Given that I wasn't allowed to use the toilet, and I knew, it didn't qualify as an "accident". I went to ask Jen to change me.

"Sure, just let me finish talking to Jason," she told me.

I waited about five minutes before she came into my room. She laid a large towel down on the floor, and ordered me to sit down on it. I complied.

She went over to the bag of Attends and grabbed one. I noticed that she wanted to put me in a disposable, so I told her that the cloth diapers had come.

"Cool. I need practice with cloth diapers, too," she said.

She grabbed a cloth diaper out of the drawers and pulled out the box of pins. She put the diaper under me, and pinned it to me. After she was done, she told me to get up. I did. The cloth felt wonderful between my legs, soft and smooth. The cotton rubbed against me, and it felt delightful.

Jen then told me to wait in my room while she went to hers. She came back moments later, holding a pair of large plastic pants. Within moments, I was wearing them. I pulled the jeans back on, and snapped the sides. I noticed that these pants didn't have velcro or snaps in the crotch, but they did have a small, almost indistinguishable zipper. I told Jen that maybe she could use that in the future.

She told me that she would remember that in the future. As she left to go downstairs, she told me to follow her. I figured she wanted to try something else on me in terms of her training, so I followed her. I didn't mind the idea of her babying me, and I didn't have much of a choice, anyway.

We both arrived downstairs. I sat down on the couch, and Jen took a seat across from me. I turned on the TV, and she read over the information on her nanny school. Suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Paul, come here," Jen said.

"Why?"

"Jason's here. I want to show him how you look!" she said.

PART 10

Jen opened the door, and Jason stepped in. As I said, I didn't mind Jason, and I considered him a friend. But he was, in all honesty, a redneck. I doubt he'd react kindly to my new situation. I waited for the embarrassing moment.

"Hey, Paul," Jason said.

"Hey," I answered.

"Jason, you're going to love this," Jen said, looking at me with her malicious, older-sister smile. Here came the trouble...

"What's that?" he asked.

"Paul, show him your zipper!"

I tried to protest, but I realized that in spite of my side of the story, I was about to be mortified. I slowly reached down, and grabbed the zipper that ran through my crotch area, my face burning red with humiliation.

Jason became confused. "What's that zipper for?"

Jen almost got the words out, but mine came more quickly. "I'm wearing diapers, now. I have to."

He looked at me oddly, then shrugged it off. "Why are you so embarrassed? If you have to wear them, it shouldn't be a problem," he said.

I was so thankful to have him say that!!!

Jen started saying that I was a baby, and that she thought I was very immature. Jason looked at her.

"Jennifer, I wore diapers until the seventh grade. I don't think I was immature," he said.

Jen had her foot in her mouth, and the expression on her face looked like she had swallowed the leg. It was beautiful to see her apologize for once, even if it wasn't to me!

Shortly after, the two left for the movie they were going to see. I watched the two leave, and then went back up to my room. I had left my computer on, and I read more stories. I started in on the longest one, figuring I could read the shorter ones in the future. It was about a kid who was very ill-behaved, and his mother, a nurse, turned him back into a baby boy, diapers and all. I really enjoyed it. By the time I was through with that story, my mom came up to my room.

"Okay, Paul, you have to make a decision now. When you go to school on Tuesday, what type of diapers are you going to wear. I paid for the Attends, so you can wear them-- but I won't buy any more when we run out. After that, it's cloth diapers all the time. What's it gonna be?"

I thought a moment.

"I'd like to wear the cloth diapers to school. I can wear the disposables on special occasions, I guess," I told her. What types of special occasions would make me want to wear a disposable over a cloth diaper? I didn't care, as long as I was wearing a diaper of some sort!

PART 11

Well, I woke up after a completely uneventful Monday and I realized that it was judgment day. I didn't feel any stress myself, but my diaper certainly said otherwise. Jen wasn't up, so I was left to change myself.

Mom had run out to the store on Monday, and she bought all the diapering supplies that I would need for at least a month-- over two thousand "baby" wipes (I still didn't think the baby thing was all that interesting), a gigantic container of powder, and FIVE tubes of baby oil. It did help, though. My diaper felt comfortable (except, of course, for all the poop)-- I didn't have any itchiness or burning sensations in my more delicate areas.

When I had finished showering, I put on my diaper and made sure to use only moderate amounts of powder and oil. I had gone to bed Monday night smelling like a nursery, and I wasn't going to go through that at school if it could be avoided at all.

Mom drove me to school after breakfast and dropped me off. Classes were still a half an hour away (my parents like to be early), so I went to the computer labs and played on the Internet. After a half an hour, I went to my first class of the new semester-- Spanish 2. Fortunately, only the teacher was there, and she had a reputation for being understanding about unusual situations-- deaths in the family, stuff like that. Hopefully, that would extend to permanently unusual situations!

Class got underway, and we all started learning the conjugations of some of the more irregular verbs and other stuff like that. Halfway through the lesson, the teacher looked up with a surprised look on her face.

"Oh, class, I almost forgot! We have a special surprise in store!"

This got the attention of the entire class.

"The dean of admissions passed away last month, as you all know," she continued, a bit more solemn.

The class nodded. We had gone to a remembrance service, and many people had even attended the funeral.

"Well, he was a very frugal man in his lifetime, and his first love in life was Europe. So, in his will, he gave over a half a million dollars to the Spanish, Italian, German, and French classes-- to be spent on `touring the areas of good use of the language' as he put it. What he meant was that the money was to be spent on sending the students to Europe. Class, we have been given a free trip to Spain!"

A cheer went up from all the students. After we had all calmed down, questions started to pop up. Many of the students were past the age of thirty, and had work obligations. The college offered assistance in dealing employers, if the students desired. It was a two-week tour of the entire country!

"However, since the money is also to be preserved to allow future classes the same opportunity, we will not be offering individual accommodations. Each of you is going to bunk with three others. And don't worry, you're not in high school-- it can be boy-girl." She then gave a quick glance to me and another student that was in an "early-release" program. "Except you two."

The class got a good laugh out of it. Veronica, the other student, and I both looked at each other with faces of mock love. This only brought on more laughter. Finally, we all calmed down.

"Incidentally- Paul, Veronica, I'll need to talk to you both after class."

We then finished up the lesson. My next class was an hour away (I LOVE the schedules the college has!) and I didn't mind waiting after class. Veronica and I talked until the instructor had finished packing up.

"Veronica, Paul, I need to tell you a few things about the trip. Since neither of you is eighteen, you will not only have to get a signed permission slip, but you will each be required to take a friend with you in case of an emergency. Sort of an extension of the buddy system," she said.

"My birthday is this week-- I'll be eighteen by the time of the trip," said Veronica.

"Well, in that case, you can go. Don't worry about the friend or the permission slip," replied the instructor.

Veronica left the room, leaving me to face the teacher alone.

"So, how much will my friend's ticket be?" I asked.

"That will be paid for by the college. I'm sorry that this sort of babying has to happen, but it's policy," she replied.

"That's fine. As for accommodations, who will my friend and I be staying with?"

"Well, your accommodations were a bit of a different situation from the start because of your age, but now we have another wrinkle, don't we?"

I decided to play dumb. "What's that?"

She indicated to the thickness surrounding my waist. "My husband is a urologist. I've learned to recognize this type of thing. You just started wearing diapers recently, I assume."

I nodded.

"Well, you and your friend were going to share a single room without anybody else, but we can give you each a separate room if you choose. It can be a bit of an embarrassment to change your diapers without any privacy. Why don't you think about it for a while, and choose a friend that can come along with you. Then you can decide what type of bunking arrangement you want."

The instructor dismissed me, and I walked out the door to the room. As I did, she handed me a card with two numbers and a name on it. It was her name, I found out (My schedule had just listed "Staff" as my instructor), along with her home and work phone number.

"Call me when you make the decision, okay?" said Mrs. Balti (finally, her name!!).

I agreed, and went down to the main hall to study my irregular verbs. I went over all the things in my mind, and I tried to think of who I could invite along with me. I also tried to think of how my mom and dad would react-- would I have to wear diapers in Spain, or could I wear normal underwear?

PART 12

By the time the next class began, I had come to a decision about who I was going to take with me. It may have been a fledgling friendship, but Justin and I had hit it off perfectly. He wouldn't have any trouble making up his schoolwork, and it would get him away from his high school tormentors for a week. Add to that the diaper factor, and he looked even better. And I didn't figure a free trip to Spain is something many people would turn down.

I walked into my Calculus I class with my mind in a totally different place than math. In fact, I was in such a totally different world that I didn't even realize when the professor walked in. It was the same professor I had for PreCalc! This was going to be interesting!

As Mr. Woodrow, our professor, set up his desk, the class chatted. I had taken a seat next to Lee, the friend who had given me the picture for my calculator. We talked a bit, and he eventually convinced me that he had given me the wrong program.

Just as he was about to send me the correct file, Mr. Woodrow started the lesson. We spent the next hour and a half studying the basics of limits and derivatives. After class was over, Mr. Woodrow asked me to stay after. I agreed, and the class started to leave.

"Paul, I just want you to know-- in case you need any time to perform any necessary, er..." he stammered.

"Changes, sir?" I finished, embarrassed to a degree.

"That's a good term for it. If you need to change, then don't worry about it. You know you are free to leave at any time-- this isn't like high school-- and I'll get any notes that you may miss. I've dealt with similar students before, and it is absolutely no problem. I had noticed some trouble last semester, and I thought that you may deal with it this way. Just try to be careful of who you let know. The high school may think of this as a problem, and you might be forced to see a school counselor-- I've seen it done before. So just so you know, there isn't any trouble here."

"Thank you. But how did you know about my wearing diapers?" I asked.

"Paul, your snaps came undone during class. They're hanging down as we speak. I don't look at those areas of my students, but I caught the movement out of the corner of my eye. Just try to be more careful in the future."

I looked down, and sure enough, my pants had come undone. I was mortified. How many people had seen me like this?

I pushed the thoughts out of my mind and snapped myself up. I then made a beeline for the parking lot. After waiting a while, Mom showed up and I climbed in the car.

"Do you need changing?" was the first thing my mother asked.

"Yes," I replied sheepishly.

"No problem. When did you go?" she asked.

"I don't know," I responded. "But I really did a number on this diaper."

"No problem. So, how were classes?" she asked.

"Fine. I found out some interesting news today."

"What's that?" asked Mom.

"We're going to Spain. Free. In about eight weeks, we'll be going to Madrid as the final unit of our class."

"Really? Do I have any permission slips that they need me to fill out?"

"Yeah, and I have to take a friend with me for insurance reasons." I replied.

"Wouldn't that make it more expensive?" Mom asked.

"Not if they say we're using the buddy system for emergencies," I said.

"Oh. I guess that makes sense in a weird, half- conscious, mega-convoluted way. So, who are you supposed to take with you? Are they paying?"

"Yes, they're paying, and I can take anyone that I choose, eighteen or not."

"Who do you plan to take along?" Mom asked me again.

"I don't know. What type of underwear will I have?"

"The same that you're wearing now," came the reply.

"But I can't go to Spain wearing diapers! Everybody in my class could find out!"

"I'm sorry, but unless you can stop using your diapers, you'll be wearing them," said Mom.

"But if I'm not allowed to use the toilet," I said.

"That's a problem we can discuss when you come back from your trip."

So, I was stuck on a dream trip to Madrid in diapers with a new friend who also happened to wear diapers. This was getting to be a very interesting day!

PART 13

The semester shouldn't have passed so quickly. I still needed time to get used to the diapers, but the trip was today. Justin was coming, and we were bunking together the entire trip. Jen had been letting me change myself for the past week so I would be used to it when I was in Spain.

I arrived at the college and waited with the other students for the shuttle bus to come pick us up. I had two bags with me-- one contained most of my clothes, including my diapers, while the other had the remainder of my clothes (the teacher had made sure we packed for any possible weather conditions) and other things I would need, like voltage adapters, a Spanish-English dictionary, and two of my remaining Attends, just in case.

Justin got there about a half an hour before the bus arrived. He walked around, talked to a lot of the people, had a good time. I noticed that he only brought one suitcase that was too big to be a carry-on. I was going to ask him why when the bus pulled up.

On the way to the airport, Justin and I talked about our expectations for the trip. He was sort of worried, since he didn't speak anything except English, though he had brought along a language course on tape-- one of the Berlitz things. All in all, though, we were excited about the entire ordeal.

We arrived at the airport, and we checked our bags in. I was worried that my carry-on bag would be too big, and I'd have to send it with my other bag. As it turned out, it just fit-- that was a relief.

Just before we boarded the plane, Mrs. Balti pulled me aside to ask me if I had to change. My diaper was clean and dry, so there was no need. She also asked if I had told Justin that I wore diapers.

"You need to know, you AREN'T going to be able to keep it a secret from him on this trip. He'll find out soon enough. Does he know?"

I told her that he did know, but I decided not to mention the fact that he also wore diapers-- I didn't think it was my place to tell her.

We boarded the plane and got ready for takeoff. Justin was dry, so we both figured we were ready for the flight. We took seats right next to each other-- we had to, for the buddy system.

Takeoff was a bit rocky, and the man seated next to us started to get nervous. He looked like he was about to piss his pants-- too bad he didn't have a diaper on.

After we reached our cruising altitude, the man introduced himself and apologized, in case he might have made us nervous during takeoff. He told us that this was his first time flying.

Justin tried to calm him down.

"Relax," he said. "These things are safer than cars, statistically."

"But what if the engines lose power?" the man responded.

"No problem. We'll be six miles high, and the wings still will work. We would have at least a couple hundred miles before we even needed to worry-- these planes have a great length-to-drop ratio."

Justin spent a few more minutes convincing the man that he was safe. Eventually, he decided to go to sleep. When he finally started snoozing, I looked over at Justin.

"How did you know all that stuff about length to whatever ratios?" I asked.

"I don't," he whispered back. "But two pantspissers next to each other is enough-- I didn't want another!"

About that time, a flight attendant came on the speaker and started announcing the in- flight movie. The other flight attendants then came down the aisles, collecting money for the headphone rentals. Justin and I reluctantly gave four dollars each for the privilege of owning the headphones for twelve hours.

The movie was "Scream 2". About half way through the movie, I realized that I had wet myself slightly-- not enough to warrant a change yet, but I didn't know if the diaper would last for the entire flight. After all, I had been wearing cloth diapers for about two months now, but I was wearing a disposable (with plastic pants) for the flight. I didn't know how much this diaper could hold.

Justin seemed unworried about his diapers-- he was wearing layered cloth diapers, so they could absorb more than what I had on. However, he did shift a few times during the movie, seeming like he itched in that area. I hoped that he wasn't developing diaper rash.

After the movie was over, meals were served. We had a choice between beef god-only- knows-what or a cold-cut sandwich. Justin and I both opted for the latter, and it wasn't that bad a sandwich, much to our surprise.

Eventually, I fell asleep under the spell of the engines' roaring and the reclined (ha!) seat.

I slept all the way through the night and breakfast (I didn't miss much, according to Justin). I woke up just before we were due to touch down.

I quickly gathered all my stuff into my carry-on. I realized that I had wet my diaper as well as messed it while I was sleeping. But the "fasten safety belt" sign was on, and I couldn't go change myself. I figured I could change as soon as we got on the ground. Justin whispered to me that he had the same problem, and he would need to change, too.

"Do you have any diapers?" I asked.

"No... did you bring any extra?"

"I brought two disposable diapers in my carry-on. All the rest are in my suitcase."

"If you could let me borrow one, I'd be really grateful."

"No problem. But the diapers will have to last us until we get to the hotel."

"Thanks."

We landed, and the plane taxied into the terminal. We got off the plane and went straight to the restrooms. We quickly changed into the fresh diapers. I threw my old one in the trash, and Justin put his in a trash bag that he put into my bag. We then went back and joined the group to wait to pick up our luggage.

The line at the baggage claim was surprisingly short. We waited about ten minutes until the conveyor belt started moving. As it moved the suitcases and bags along, my classmates moved forward to pick up their belongings. I noticed that some people didn't collect any bags, Justin and myself included.

As we started to see some of the suitcases again and again, Justin and I became worried. We were wearing our only clean diapers, and we didn't have any type of backup plan.

When all was said and done, about a quarter of the class was left without anything but the clothes on their back (literally). The airline, after some heated conversations in both Spanish and English, decided to give each person a full refund for the trip. Since the school was paying for it anyway, the money was to be used to buy new clothing and supplies until the luggage could be tracked down and delivered.

Which left Justin and myself stranded in Spain wearing disposable diapers, giving us a few hours (at most) to get new ones.

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